


Be Mine

by orphan_account



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Grantaire is a wonderful boyfriend, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Stalker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 18:37:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1993536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts with roses. Enjolras assumes they're from Grantaire, but he's chillingly wrong. Things digress from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be Mine

**Author's Note:**

> So I might have given up my multi-chapter works (which are available for adoption if anyone wants), but I can't stop the one-shots for when I've hit a block on my other works.

There was a vase holding a dozen long-stemmed red roses on his welcome mat.

Enjolras blinked down at it for a moment before a fond smile played at his lips and warm affection filled him.

His boyfriend was a complete sap and he loved him for it.

He carefully picked up the vase and brought it into the apartment, setting it gingerly down on the kitchen table. He stood there smiling at the flowers for a moment. It was just like Grantaire to get him flowers for no reason whatsoever. Roses were a bit atypical for him though.

He dug out his phone and sent him a text.

_Roses?_

He didn’t expect to get a reply anytime soon. The artist was surely still asleep. Enjolras wondered absently as he walked out the door when the other man had found time to leave him flowers. He had left his apartment late last night, reluctantly leaving his boyfriend’s warm bed due to a lack of work clothes for this morning. Either Grantaire had had the flowers stashed somewhere in his apartment that Enjolras hadn’t noticed, not hard considering he was focused on _other_ things at the time, or he had picked them up early this morning.

The trouble Grantaire must have gone to made his heart ache with affection.

He was at the office working on a memo when his phone buzzed with a reply from Grantaire.

_Overrated. Y?_

Enjolras rolled his eyes at the question. Just like Grantaire to play dumb about his romantic gesture.

 _I love you_.

He grinned as he hit the send button, and went back to work, putting the flowers out of his head.

 

Two days later, he shook his head in amusement when he opened his door to a bouquet of sunflowers. This time, there was a note.

_You are the sun in my sky_

_You make me want to fly_

_I hope to never make you cry_

_For you I would kill and die_

He couldn’t hold back a snort. He really hoped Grantaire never showed Jehan that particular bit of poetry. The poet would probably cry at how awful it was. Grantaire probably cackled as he was writing it, knowing exactly how bad and cheesy it was and imagining the look on his face as he read it.

In a fit of gleeful spite, he slapped the card on the refrigerator with a magnet and smirked in satisfaction. He knew Grantaire could write poetry quite well when the mood struck him, so a poem that bad had to be done purposefully. So the only thing to do was to get him teased relentlessly for it by their friends.

He’d have to remember to invite them all over soon, he thought with chuckle to himself as he shot a text to Grantaire.

_You suck at poetry._

His phone buzzed a few moments later.

 _Hurtful_.

He rolled his eyes and grinned. _Love you_ , he sent back, frowning as he realized the time. If Grantaire was up this early, it meant he hadn’t gone to bed last night. Considering he had been too caught up in a frenzy of inspiration to meet up last night, Enjolras assumed he had been up all night painting.

Grantaire really needed to stop going to the trouble of doing things like surprising him with flowers when he was already running himself ragged. Enjolras didn’t need romantic gestures from him. He already knew the artist loved him.

 _You really don’t have to get me flowers_ , he texted him after a moment. _You already have me forever :)_

 _Is this a hint that I need to get you flowers?_ Grantaire texted back as he was walking out the door, causing Enjolras to groan in fond exasperation.

_NO!_

Well, if Grantaire was just going to play dumb and keep on with the romance, Enjolras would just have to pay him back.

But since he was crap at picking out flowers, that night, when he went over to Grantaire’s for dinner, he showed Grantaire _exactly_ how grateful he was.

He had meant to bring up the flowers again, but Grantaire’s body had just been a little too distracting.

 

When he got back home the next morning and saw chocolates on his doorstep, he froze.

He knew these weren’t from Grantaire. For one, his boyfriend knew that he was allergic to chocolate. He certainly teased him enough for it even if he had given it up himself as a completely unnecessary show of solidarity. For two, Grantaire had been with him the _entire_ night, and the chocolates weren’t there when he had stopped by after work to change.

So the question was, who had left him chocolates? And did this mean that Grantaire _hadn’t_ sent him the flowers and _wasn’t_ just being cute by not acknowledging them?

He slowly picked up the chocolates and opened his door, throwing them down on the table as if they would bite him.

His heart stuttered as the card on the fridge caught his eye. _I hope to never make you cry_ and _For you I would kill and die_.

Suddenly those words had a much more sinister meaning.

He shook his head at the ridiculousness of his thoughts. So someone had gotten him flowers and chocolates and wrote a shitty ass poem for him. It wasn’t the first time he had been the recipient of unwanted advances, and it would probably hardly be the last. Whoever it was probably didn’t realize he had a boyfriend, not hard considering they usually hung out a Grantaire’s, and was just too shy to ask him out directly.

He rolled his eyes as he took the card from the refrigerator and threw it in the trash, feeling foolish for the fleeting moment of fear. He frowned, though, as he realized he had inadvertently insulted Grantaire’s poetry yesterday.

He scowled at the stupid flowers and chocolates on the table. Stupid secret admirer. Grantaire already had enough self-confidence issues at times. He didn’t need Enjolras making them worse.

He quickly dialed the artist’s number, unable to help the smile that came to his face when he got a sleepy “hmmm” when Grantaire picked up.

Even after dating over a year, the other man’s voice still did stupid things to him.

“I owe you an apology,” he said without preamble.

“I’m sure whatever it is last night more than made up for it,” Grantaire replied, voice stilly husky with sleep.

“I’m pretty sure an apology isn’t supposed to be _that_ enjoyable,” he quipped, arousal stirring within him as he thought about the night before. “But that’s not the point.”

“Fine, what are you apologizing for?” he asked curiously, sounding a little more awake.

“I insulted your poetry yesterday, and it turns out it wasn’t _your_ poetry. Not that I would have insulted it if I hadn’t thought you had written it ironically. I would never say insult your honest poetry. Not that I give you insincere praise. I just wouldn’t have been so harsh—”

“Your apologies are rare but they always end up as ramblings,” Grantaire said, cutting him off with a laugh. “But if you weren’t insulting _my_ poetry, whose poetry were you insulting? Do you have another boyfriend? Should I be worried?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Enjolras scoffed. “You know I love you. I’ve just seemed to have picked up a secret admirer who’s leaving me flowers and poetry. They’re going to be so disappointed when they finally pluck up the courage to ask me out.”

“I’d feel so for the poor bastard, but I can’t be sorry that you’re all mine,” the artist replied, grin evident in his voice. “But you have work, remember, and I have sleep, so let’s get to it.”

Enjolras laughed. “Okay, I’ll come by later with dinner?”

“Sounds good. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

 

“Stay,” Grantaire mumbled into his shoulder as he tried to roll out of bed later that night.

“I have work tomorrow,” he protested even as he turned into Grantaire and wrapped his arms around him.

“Then leave from here,” he suggested, dropping a kiss to Enjolras’ curls. “There are enough of your work clothes here for you to make do.”

Enjolras smiled and sighed happily. “Okay.”

It wasn’t like he didn’t want to stay anyway. He wanted to be with Grantaire all the time. The only reason he didn’t stay all the time was because he was afraid the other man would get sick of him.

So when Grantaire asked, he was definitely not going to say no.

 

He stayed late at the office the next day. A big case had required all the junior associates to pitch in on document review, the most mind-numbing task a lawyer could be set to do but also one of the most important.

He hated missing his nightly dinners and hangouts with Grantaire, but by the time he left work, it was already almost ten, and he was too tired to contemplate eating. It felt wrong to go straight home and stay there. Spending time at his apartment was rare. If he wasn’t at Grantaire’s, he was at Combeferre and Courfeyrac’s place or the Musain.

To tell the truth, he really just used his apartment for sleep and coffee in the mornings, and there were some days he didn’t even both using it for that.

He didn’t want to think about how he felt about that, because it brought up an unpleasant longing sensation in the pit of his stomach, one that he felt selfish for even having. Putting it out of his mind, he stripped down to his boxers and undershirt and crawled into bed.

 

Enjolras jerked awake silently, a cold feeling of unease trickling through him. He glanced at the clock by his bed. 1:13. What had woken him up?

He glanced around his dark room nervously, eyeing the window that led to the fire escape especially closely but nothing seemed amiss.

He lay back down but was too shaky to close his eyes. It was silly, he knew. Nothing was there. He was all alone.

Maybe that was the problem. Maybe he just didn’t want to be alone. Maybe not seeing Grantaire all day had thrown him more than he realized.

And didn’t that just sound desperately clingy, he thought with a scowl. He sounded pathetic, but all he wanted to do was text Grantaire and ask if he could come over. It wasn’t that late for the artist. He’d probably still be up.

But he _really_ didn’t want to sound so needy. Who wanted such a needy boyfriend?

He groaned in self-pity and buried his face in his pillow, forcing himself to close his eyes and relax.

Soon, he was fast asleep again.

 

He had to stay late again the next day at work as well, but thankfully not _as_ late. He managed to leave at around eight and drove straight to Grantaire’s place. Of course, his hopes of a night in with his boyfriend were dashed as he realized all his friends had come over for a movie night.

He frowned petulantly, but still dropped into Grantaire’s lap in exhaustion, hiding his face in his neck as his arms wrapped around him. He resolutely ignored Courfeyrac and Jehan’s cooing and sighed in contentment.

“Long day?” Grantaire asked in amusement, carding his fingers through Enjolras’ curls.

“Hmm, long night too. Missed you,” he mumbled, the filter that usually kept him from saying such ridiculously needy things obviously not working due to his fatigue.

Grantaire chuckled fondly. “You could have come over last night. I missed you too.”

A warm feeling spread through Enjolras, only to be replaced with panic as Courfeyrac snorted and spoke up.

“I don’t know why you two don’t just move in together. Maybe then the rest of us would be spared your ridiculously sappy PDAs.”

Enjolras shot him a betrayed glare that Grantaire couldn’t see while Combeferre just gave him a disappointed look.

“I don’t think relationship we’ll be taking relationship advice from _you_ of all people,” Grantaire quipped back, steel underlying the light tone of his words.

Courfeyrac looked sheepish at that, giving them both apologetic looks before focusing back on the movie. Not that Enjolras missed the little side-glances he kept giving Combeferre. He eventually settled back against Grantaire and was content to just soak in the comfort of his boyfriend’s embrace.

“You should eat something,” Grantaire murmured in his ear after a while, rousing him from his half-asleep state.

“Not hungry,” he mumbled.

“When was the last time you ate?”

Enjolras didn’t answer, not really wanting to admit that the only food he had had all day was an apple for breakfast, and _definitely_ not wanting to admit that he had missed dinner yesterday.

“That’s what I thought,” Grantaire said, dragging them both to their feet and ushering him into the kitchen.

Before he even knew what had happened, he was sitting at the table with a sandwich and a glass of milk in front of him. He blinked. Either Grantaire had developed superspeed or he was more exhausted than he had realized.

He picked up the sandwich at Grantaire’s expectant look and took a bite. After the first bite, his stomach apparently realized how hungry he was and he practically inhaled the rest of the sandwich before draining his milk.

He slumped in his chair as fatigue hit him hard once his stomach was full and didn’t argue when Grantaire practically carried him to bed. He did, however, make a pitiful noise of protest when Grantaire went to pull away. The artist smiled fondly down at him before climbing into bed next to him and pulling him close.

He moaned in happy sleepiness and cuddled up to the warmth that was his boyfriend, giving in to the exhaustion that had been at the edge of his mind all day.

 

He woke up alone in bed and with a text from Courfeyrac waiting for him on his phone.

_Sry! I no how u feel and shouldnt have said anything. Im just depressed about C. U should talk to R tho, imho._

He sighed at message and just sent an _It’s ok_ back to him. Maybe Courfeyrac had a point, though he’d never admit it to the other man. He knew Grantaire had sensed that he had an issue with the idea of them moving in together. He didn’t want his boyfriend to think it had anything to do with _him_.

Resolved, he swung his legs out of bed and went in search of Grantaire. It didn’t take him long to find him flipping pancakes in the kitchen.

Grantaire grinned at him. “Good morning, sleepyhead!” he greeted cheerfully, flipping the last pancake onto the stack. “You have perfect timing.”

“Morning,” he said before taking a deep breath. “It’s not that I don’t want to move in with you,” he began, seeing no reason to beat around the bush.

Grantaire turned around and gave him a sad sort of smile. “Enjolras, you don’t have to justify it. I know it’s a big commitment and understand if you’re not ready for it.”

Enjolras knew what Grantaire really meant was that he understood if Enjolras wasn’t ready to commit himself to _him_ and he needed to dispel him of that ridiculous notion as quickly as possible.

“I _am_ ready for it,” he insisted. “I’ve _been_ ready for it. Grantaire, I want to spend the rest of my _life_ with you if you’ll have me. It’s just that…” He bit his lip and took a deep calming breath before continuing. “I’m afraid that if you live with me, you’ll realize that you deserve so much more than me,” he finished quietly, unable to look his boyfriend in the eye.

“Hey,” Grantaire said softly, stepping closer to him and cupping his face gently. “Do you honestly not know how stupidly in love with you I am? And trust me, if I ever start thinking that I deserve more than _you_ , you better take me to the hospital because I’ve had a stroke or something that is causing some pretty serious delusions.”

Enjolras laughed despite himself and shook his head slowly. “Don’t joke, I’m serious. I know I’m crap at relationships. I can give you the names and numbers of a couple people you can call for personal accounts as proof. I know I’m needy and clingy and I take and take and take and rarely give. And I’ve been trying to not be so… pathetic, but it’s hard and if we move in together, I’m scared you’ll see it and will realize that you’re better off without me.”

Tears were falling from his eyes by the time he was finished and he went to wipe them away harshly but Grantaire’s gently thumbs beat him to it. He was gazing at Enjolras with such gentleness that his heart ached.

He didn’t deserve this man.

“Enjolras,” Grantaire said seriously. “Did it ever occur to you that I _like_ taking care of you? I like when you’re needy and clingy and I definitely _don’t_ see it as pathetic? Enjolras, I know you. I know that your parents were crap and you grew up relying on yourself. I know you feel like you’re a burden when other people help you and you _hate_ that. Hell, you don’t even let _Combeferre_ help you unless he rationalizes it to you in a way you _can’t_ refuse. I know that it’s hard for you to freely give physical affection because you didn’t have it growing up. I know you always have a slight moment of tenseness when Courfeyrac or Jehan hug you even though you love it when they do. So I _know_ that when you willingly accept my help or let me take care of you or freely wrap yourself around me at any opportunity, it means you _trust_ me and that you _love_ me and I absolutely _cherish_ that because I absolutely cherish _you_.”

He choked on a sob as Grantaire finished and lurched forward to wrap his arms around Grantaire’s waist and bury his face in his chest.

“I love you,” he said, once he regained control of his ability to speak. “I know I’m not as good at showing it as you, but I do.”

“You show it to me all the time,” he soothed, petting his curls gently. “Just because your stupid exes weren’t smart enough to see the way you show love doesn’t mean I am.”

“I do want to move in with you,” he said, looking up at him.

“When is your lease over?” Grantaire asked, smiling down at him.

“Two months,” he said. “Gives me plenty of time to move everything in.”

Grantaire hummed in agreement. “I think you should stay the weekend as practice,” he suggested seriously.

Enjolras laughed. “I can do that, but I don’t have any clothes left here,” he pointed out.

“My plans for the next two days don’t really require any,” Grantaire said with a playful leer.

 

Enjolras spent the weekend in a daze of happiness and he hated to see it end. He stayed as late as he could Sunday night, but dragged himself away with reluctance, knowing there was no way he could wake up early enough the next morning to get back to his apartment and change before work. Not with Grantaire in the bed.

He froze as he approached his apartment though.

His door was open.

It wasn’t gaping open, but it was ajar in a way that made Enjolras’ blood run cold.

Had he not closed it well enough?

It was entirely possible. He had been tired Friday morning. Maybe he hadn’t closed it well enough and the wind had blown it open. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibilities.

But that explanation didn’t sit well with him.

He edged forward uncertainly and pushed the door open more. He peered in for a moment before stepping in with trepidation. A little voice in his head, which sounded like a combination of Combeferre and Grantaire, was screaming at him to not step inside alone. He ignored it, though, and pressed on.

His apartment wasn’t large. It was a simple one bedroom. So it didn’t take him long to walk through the entire place.

There was no one there, and there didn’t seem to be anything amiss. He felt silly now for his fear. He must have not closed the door well enough Friday. Nothing was wrong.

Then why did he still feel uneasy?

 

His level of unease shot straight up to terror when he found the picture on his welcome mat the next morning.

It was a picture of him and Grantaire picking up Thai food Sunday. A picture of the spontaneous kiss that Grantaire had swept him up in before they went in the restaurant.

Someone was following them.

Oh, _God_ , someone was following _him_.

Suddenly the innocent secret admirer didn’t seem so innocent, and the odd little feelings of unease he’d been getting were making more sense.

He picked the picture up with a trembling hand. He flipped it over and let out an involuntary sob.

 _I will love you so much better than him_.

 

He had never had a less productive day at work. After he found the picture, he had practically ran to his car and driven as fast as possible to work, only breathing easily once he was inside the building.

He was safe at work, he knew. The doors to the offices were accessible only with a keycard. The only way his… stalker, for lack of a better word, would get in was if the reception buzzed him in, and there was no chance the guy would risk it. Not with all the security guards and cameras employed by the building.

The clock was ticking closer to five, and he was running low on work he could justify doing now rather than later. Not to mention his stomach was threatening to eat itself. That was mostly because he had skipped lunch though, which was not his fault this time. He had been planning to grab something at the food trucks a couple blocks down, but he had been terrified of leaving the office after finding that picture.

Now all he was thinking about was walking through the dark parking garage to his car in order to go home.

He frowned at not being scared at the going home part, but then he realized that it was because he thought of _Grantaire’s_ as home now.

Shit, what if this guy went after Grantaire?

His heart stuttered in his chest and tears pricked his eyes. What if by spending more time with Grantaire put him in danger?

He choked back a sob as he realized what he had to do.

He had to stay the night at his apartment, try to appease this guy for a little bit until he figured out what to do next.

He sent a text to Grantaire, telling him he had to work really late and would probably just crash at his place, hating lying to the other man but not wanting to worry him.

That pesky little voice in his head told him that if what he was planning would worry his boyfriend, he probably shouldn’t do it, but he ignored it.

He couldn’t let Grantaire be hurt because of him. And he couldn’t go to the police with this because what could they do really? It wasn’t like this guy had broken any laws. He had left him a couple things of flowers, some chocolate, and a picture. None of those things were a crime. And there was no _proof_ he was stalking him because the picture _could_ have been a coincidence.

Of course, he _may_ have broken into Enjolras’ apartment.

He was trying very hard not to think about that. Maybe he had been right all along, though. Maybe that _had_ just been the wind blowing open a door that wasn’t closed very well. It wasn’t an _impossible_ coincidence…

Besides, it was just one night. Tomorrow, he’d take the day off and try to figure out a plan of action. That was what he did, after all. He planned.

And it wasn’t like he was a defenseless little butterfly. He _could_ take care of himself. He might not weigh very much, but that didn’t mean he’d be easily overpowered.

He’d be fine.

 

By ten o’clock that night, he was severely regretting his decisions. He had already curled up in bed after pacing for nearly an hour straight, but he was far too tense to actually sleep. He had some sleeping pills he could take, but the thought of being that groggy if something _did_ happen was enough to scare him away from taking those.

Growling with frustration, he closed his eyes and forced himself to clear his mind. He imagined Grantaire’s strong arms pulling him close and sighed as he felt a little bit of his tension leave him. Slowly, he began to drift, not fully asleep, but definitely not fully awake either.

He was jerked awake by a loud _clank_ on the fire escape. He glanced at the clock. 1:37.

His eyes darted to the window and he froze in absolute terror.

There was someone _there_.

He couldn’t really see his face, but he could see his dark eyes shining out in the darkness, locking with his. He wanted to look away, but he was scared to provoke him. Though he couldn’t say for sure how tall the man was, he could definitely see that his mass was certainly bigger than his. Enjolras knew that if this man wanted to, he could overpower him.

He was so caught up in his fear and the man’s appearance, that it took him a moment to realize what the man was _doing_ , and when he did, he began to hyperventilate.

He was _touching_ himself.

Enjolras had never felt more violated in his life as the man peered through his bedroom window, cock out and in his hand, getting off to the sight of him in bed.

He was very aware of the bedsheets and duvet tangled at his feet. Not only did that leave him far too exposed to the man’s eyes, but it also posed a very difficult escape problem should the man decide that looking was not enough.

He wanted to run so badly, but he didn’t dare. The window was locked, he knew, but glass was hardly difficult to break. And someone might hear, but by the time someone came to help, it might already be too late for him.

God, why had he been so _stupid_ as to come back here tonight? Even if he _did_ survive this, who wouldn’t say that he had fucking _asked_ for it? Who else _knowingly_ puts himself in a dangerous situation?

He sobbed as the man on his fire escape gave a grunt and came. He smiled at Enjolras as he tucked himself back into his pants, teething glinting in the darkness, and left.

It took a few moments for Enjolras to figure out how to move, but he grabbed his phone off his nightstand as soon as he could, scrambling out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, hiding out in the only room his stupid apartment with no windows.

If he had thought about it, the first number he probably would have called would have been 911. Instead, though, he punched in Grantaire’s number, needing his boyfriend more than he could say.

 

Luckily, Grantaire had had the sense to call 911 as soon as he got there and realized what had happened, which is what led to them both sitting on a couch getting interviewed by a detective as a group of investigators went through his apartment looking for fingerprints or whatever.

“You were _very_ lucky, Mr. Enjolras,” the detective was saying. “Most incidents like this don’t just end with the attacker walking away. My guess is that the guy was planning on coming back and finishing the job.”

Grantaire’s grip on him tightened even as he clung to the artist.

“We’ll likely be able to get a match on the DNA from the semen sample we’ve got,” he continued, though Enjolras knew it wasn’t quite as likely as he was making it sound. “But I would advise not staying here until we got this guy safely behind bars.”

“He’s never staying here again,” Grantaire promised fiercely, causing the knot in Enjolras’ chest to loosen. He had been so afraid Grantaire would blame him. After all, _he_ had chosen to come back here. He certainly blamed himself enough as it was.

“Glad to hear it,” the detective said. “It’s late. Why don’t you take him home and let him rest? We’ll let you know if any developments happen.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Enjolras said as soon as they got back to Grantaire’s place.

“Don’t you dare apologize for some psycho stalker coming after you,” Grantaire growled, pulling him into a fierce hug.

“If I hadn’t lied, if I had just come _here_ …”

“Who knows what would have happened? The guy might have found the opportunity to do a lot more than just jerk off on your fire escape,” Grantaire said, voice breaking slightly. “You’re not going to go anywhere alone until this guy is caught, okay? I don’t care how sick of me and the others you get, we’re gonna stick close to you whether you like it or not.”

“What if he’s never found?” he asked weakly, not minding the thought of never being alone, not after what he’d just been through.

“We’ll reevaluate later,” he replied seriously. “Now, come on, let’s get you in bed and tomorrow we can call everyone over.”

Enjolras smiled, knowing that Grantaire and his friends wouldn’t let anyone touch him.

 

Luckily, it never came to him being shadowed for an indefinite period of time. Apparently, his stalker was a repeat offender, and his DNA led the police right to him four days later. The bastard struck a deal, five years in prison.

He knew Grantaire didn’t think it was enough, but it allowed him to sleep easier at night.

He’d worry about five years from now when it came.


End file.
